


everything i need (you’re everything to me)

by Anonymous



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-26
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-09-27 20:31:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17168909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: In which Zari and Amaya are Hogwarts Professors, and they fall in love.





	everything i need (you’re everything to me)

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a last minute pinch-hit for @ace-enby-alien on tumblr. Hopefully you enjoy it!

Zari hacked the United States government once. One of their many agencies, all their classified and secretive files spilled for the masses to see. It’s an untraceable hack, only in that it wasn’t performed in the muggle world. All investigations come up empty; all inquiries responded to with non-answers that equated to nothing.

Benefits of the being a witch, living full-time in the wizarding world, she supposes. She’s summoned to the Ministry of Magic and sent a stern warning not to interfere with the affairs of the muggle world, _especially_ the Americans, the ministry official mutters, before going off a side tangent about how _awful_ and _despicable_ and _disgusting_ and _uncivilized_ they were in just about everything, as well as a warning that should anything else of this nature happen, pointed glares following by default, there would be more severe consequences.

The next day, unexpected visitors arrive at her door. Prompt and early, the headmaster and deputy headmaster of Hogwarts stand at her door, waiting patiently for a response. She leaves them in the cold for three hours; by the time she’s finally woken up, the deputy headmaster had already bought pastries and coffee for himself to pass the time.

 _Men_ , she thinks in annoyance, as she throws on something presentable, expecting a lecture or something along that line of thinking. Surely, black pants and a shirt would suffice. They’d have to do, anyway, since it was the weekend and she wasn’t going to wear a dress unless she had to.

“Miss Tomaz,” Headmaster Rip Hunter asks, “may we come in?” The deputy headmaster has in his hand an envelope he’s just waiting to hand out. 

Zari almost wants to tell them that they’re already standing at her door, with the presumption they’ll get invited in. Nonetheless, they’re invited in. Not that anything would result from it, of course, but she highly doubts they’re looking to employ her.

They make their way to the living room, and it’s then the headmaster introduces himself. “I am Headmaster Rip Hunter of the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,” he clears his throat to keep his companion awake, “and this is Deputy Headmaster Nathaniel Heywood.”

“Nate,” the man with more hair corrects. The headmaster gives him an annoyed glare.

“We heard of how you,” he pauses as to clarify it, “found loopholes within the structure of the American government. Our current Professor of Muggle Studies is set to retire at the end of this school year.” A pause, then. “Would you be interested in teaching?”

Oh. It was a job offer.

“It would only be a short-term position, of course.” He starts, at her hesitancy. “Unless you wished to stay.”

The envelope lies on the table between her and the two men, already opened to a contract.

“What Rip means to say,” Nate Heywood explains, “is that we thought you’d be a good candidate based on your experience, skillset and ability to—”

“With all due respect,” the headmaster tells his deputy, “that pitch is far worse than mine. Your pitch fails to mention that both food and housing are provided as is salary, and it provides the opportunity to enrich the education of future generations, to steer and advise students into successful and prosperous futures and, perhaps this is the best benefit of all, it provides credible immunity from having to deal with the ministry of magic.”

“None of that made it into your pitch.” The deputy headmaster, Nate Heywood, tells his superior, before turning to her. “But everything he said—you get the chance to shape our future for the better, food you don’t have to cook and the staff becomes a second family. A home away from home.”

Zari’s not sure if they’re incompetent on purpose, or if it’s accidental. Either way, she’s not impressed.

“I don’t have any experience teaching,” she tells them.

“You’re more than qualified for the position, Miss Tomaz. If your lack of experience is your primacy concern, then we have faculty who are more than willing to lend a helping hand in developing lesson plans or comparing teaching methods.” The headmaster explains.

She shakes her head. “Don’t you have other applicants?”

“Don’t spread the word,” Rip looks wary, “but our only other applicant is Leonard Snart, and I don’t trust the man with anything, much less the possibility that he would likely steer our students down a path of villainy.”

“Besides,” Rip tells her, “the aurors are planning on arresting him for using the unforgiveables, and those automatically carry a life sentence in Azkaban.”

An awkward silence follows, before Zari speaks up.

“When do I start?”

Both men have never looked happier in their lives. 

* * *

 

Misfits and nobodies are how the headmaster describes the castle. It’s the third day after everyone leaves for break, and no one really sticks around, not unless they had spent the last few days drinking for the fun of it. Day drinking, Rip tells her, was a common, informal tradition among the faculty. If it didn’t happen, that required a miracle, and miracles were rare in the teaching profession.

Zari doesn’t drink. She follows her faith, and in accordance to her faith, the consumption of alcohol is discouraged.

Both men sound happy they’re no longer teaching—instead, they’ve turned their audience to managing and alternatively, taming the board of directors and higher-up relations they needed to maintain diplomacy with. Nate Heywood makes the comment that he missed teaching the history of magic to his students, but that his replacement, Kendra Saunders, was qualified than him to take the position. He wishes her well, but Zari gets the feeling that if the position was open again, he’d take it, no questions asked.

It’s hard to tell with Rip Hunter. He could talk, on and on, and never seem to tire. Only when it was needed, silence his primary weapon of choice. “Someone had to become headmaster,” he says with the slightest hint of a sigh, and the rest is implied. Leadership is a heavy role to take, one with no immediate payoff, but needed, nonetheless. It’s thankless but necessary work.

That’s as far as they get before the topic of discussion turns to her new colleagues. 

There’s the headmaster and deputy headmaster, Rip Hunter and Nate Heywood respectively, both of whom she’s already met. They would largely be absent during the school year—handling budgetary, diplomatic or any other emergency that came up between the institution of Hogwarts and their external affairs. Whatever those affairs were, really, but probably bullshit claims and paperwork that took up far too much time than needed. Bureaucratic work.

Following that, the people that would actually be teaching and present within the school year:

Amaya Jiwe, a retired Auror, top of her class, and now teaching Defense Against Dark Arts. She’s the Head of Gryffindor, kind, sweet and beautiful. The epitome of all that was good and wonderful, what Zari gets from their commentary, as they describe how wonderful she’s been to the students and how she’s an actual angel.

Charlie, the woman who looked exactly like Amaya, but the complete opposite. She teaches Potions, and as predictable as it got, was the Head of Slytherin. Ambitious, cunning and clever, she knew all the loopholes, and by their count, kept them out of more trouble than they could count. No one knows her last name, or if she has one, and no one dares to ask.

Mona Wu, perky, sweet but occasionally too enthusiastic. An expert in all things Herbology, she proudly espoused loyalty to Hogwarts in all forms. Head of Hufflepuff, and largely in the background.

Gideon, their multipurpose life-saver. Divination instructor, kept the students alive and in one piece, and general caretaker of the castle, she kept the castle functioning and not on the brink of collapsing from centuries worth of wear and tear both from internal and external influences. Namely, weather and students. It was hard to tell which of the two caused more damage.

Kendra Saunders, the new History of Magic professor. Beloved by everyone, and, by the comment Rip made when Nate was describing her, the best person to have around when handling tensions between students or any other major kind of conflict. Kind, generous and timeless in her beauty. So popular within both faculty and the students that rumor had it she was next in line for deputy headmaster. On a side note, Zari doesn’t understand why teaching history of magic was shoo in for a promotion. Maybe it was the subject matter and what it involved?

John Constantine, all around trouble maker, Care of Magical Creatures instructor and Groundskeeper. Sporadically took care of things, and always had some kind of drink on him. A loose grader whose classes required attendance, no matter how antithetical it seemed. And, Zari learns, is the only person who could handle the relations between wizards and other magical species for long periods of time.

Sara Lance, an expert troublemaking, hell raising and Charms. The best person to have in your corner, someone who was reliable and trust worthy, and kind, wise. Rip Hunter’s protege, as Zari listens to the two of them bickering over how much Rip allowed Sara to do whatever she wanted. General badass.

Ava Sharpe, Transfiguration. In a relationship with Sara Lance, and their classrooms were side by side. The rest is left unsaid, or in this case, blissfully ignored.The minor instructors: Gary Green of Arithmancy and Ray Palmer, whose sole purpose was to entertain the first years. Taught Flying and did nothing else. An honorary mention went to Carter Hall, who taught bloody _Astronomy_ of all things, but also managed to upset both the bureaucrats in the ministry as well as the students and their relatives; word had it that when parents would send upset letters, Carter would perform dramatic readings for the staff’s enjoyment. 

At least the librarians, Martin Stein and Jax, were normal. 

Zari hopes so, anyways.

* * *

 

Summer comes and Zari spends her time consuming anything that’ll help her prepare for the job—materials on teaching methods, daily lessons, advice from educators and outlines for curriculum guides. Exams helped too, but for hers, they were mostly written, with very few practical exams included.

So, Zari heads for her classroom instead. She’s brought over a few examples of technology—older computers, ones that were less susceptible to wear and tear— some books, examples of modern technology, media and assorted entertainment, as well as globes, introductions to cultures and subcultures, and other things.

The lesson plans are relatively solid: they’re better after consulting with friends and people who knew what they were talking about, with her own spin on things, and that was mainly the emphasis on social responsibility and technology.

She’s so immersed in trying to get everything to _work_ that she misses the beautiful woman that walks in.

“Knock knock,” a soft voice proclaims, smile on her lips. She walks in, among the clutter and desks manually pushed to the side.

“Oh, hey—” Zari starts, thinking it was probably the headmaster or the deputy headmaster. It’s a much better surprise this way, she thinks, as she introduces herself. “I’m Zari.”

“Amaya,” the other woman tells her. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

 _Oh_ , Zari thinks, _it’s more than a pleasure_. Not that she’d say it out loud, of course.

Amaya continues. “I was wondering if you needed help with setting things up. I know it can be intimidating, but I’m always here if you need anything.”

The table Zari’s working on doesn’t work out as expected. It’s an old table that’s handled miscellaneous and layered spell work, and appears to have retained it, becoming resistant to the spells she was using.

“That would be nice,” Zari starts, and Amaya leans over, iterating a series of enchantments Zari doesn’t comprehend; it sounds like complex spell work, something beyond the levels of which Zari had ever experimented with.

“Try it now,” Amaya tells her, and Zari’s drawn to her. She’s intrigued, and she knows from reputation alone Amaya’s an honest-to-goodness saint, but to see it in person is a separate story altogether.

Zari tries her spell again. It works, without a hitch. “Thanks,” she tells Amaya, before asking. “How’d you do that?”

“It was something the aurors taught,” Amaya explains, “a modified version of an older spell.”

“Is that all you can tell me?” Zari asks, “Unless it originated from books already classified as forbidden, or within the realm of the dark arts.”

“It was both,” Amaya confirms. “Do you need any help setting up your maps?”

There were several things Zari learned that day: one, that Amaya Jiwe was flawless, inside and out, two, that setting things up was much more enjoyable with two people, and three, she undeniably finds herself attracted to Amaya Jiwe.

* * *

 

It sounds like a bad punchline, but it’s worse. That’s all Zari can think of, as she listens to Charlie and John Constantine compare examples of students acting out of line and laughing at the rambunctiousness. Constantine describes the quality of the piss poor essays he receives, and Charlie offers examples of worse essays.

“Charlie,” Zari asks as they walk through the Forbidden Forest, “are you sure you know where you’re going?”

Charlie breezily dismisses her concerns. “Relax, Zari Cat. I’ve been this way many times in the past.”

“Do I want to know why?” Zari asks, listening to John Constantine hide his laughter at her nickname with a cough.

“Johnny,” Charlie asks Constantine, “do you think I would be ruining Z’s innocence by telling her I come pick rare potions ingredients here?”

“She’s friends with Amaya Jiwe,” John Constantine offers, “I’m sure she’s heard more than a few horror stories involving the Aurors.”

Zari wants to confirm this: while she and Amaya were good friends, they were not lovers, even though Zari wouldn’t have minded that either.

“Well, that depends. How many times has Carter done the same to you?” They words come out, aimed at John. Charlie starts laughing.

They lead by torch light, crude and uneven. John Constantine shrugs. “Not often enough—the man’s too high strung.”

“Was that what he was saying last night?” Charlie ponders. “I heard him against the wall more than once.”

“Yes,” John tells them, annoyed. “In spite of my efforts, he still believes that things have a rigid and proper order. It’s unfortunate.”

“Is that the only thing Carter believes?” Charlie poses it as an innocent question when it’s the opposite. “Johnny, we share a wall. You can’t lie to me.”

“Well,” John confirms, “he did have a choice words to say about cancelling class for an evening of relaxation.”

“And?” Charlie adds, totally unhelpfully. “Zari hasn’t heard these details before, you would be doing her an injustice by not sharing.”

“I’ve heard enough,” Zari tells Charlie, to a non-reaction.

Charlie sighs, almost dramatically. “Oh, Z. The night is still young, and unless you have any stories you would like to share besides your courtship with my look like, John and I are all you have.”

John grins at her, in all smugness. It’s strangely disturbing, with only one source of light.

“In that case,” John starts talking, “I do know friends that worked with Amaya Jiwe, when she was still one of the ministry’s most efficient Aurors. Not that she ever stopped…”

* * *

Snow arrives, as does wind and the need to wear heavy clothing. More time was spent in snow ball fights and recovering from colds, then was spent on schoolwork, but that was to be expected. 

And, as with all dysfunctional but existing institutions, holiday parties were the most enjoyable part of the it. Student free, of course.

The eggnog wasn’t bad—the spiked version was refilled constantly, and the nonalcoholic one was favored by people that weren’t keen on having too much of a headache, if it even affected them at all.

Hence, she and Amaya keeping to themselves, watching as everyone around them devolved into hormonal teenagers who should’ve known better. John and Carter were doing, well, everything they shouldn’t have been doing against the wall; Sara and Ava progressively getting bolder in their flirting; and everyone else was in some state of getting fired if this were on the public record. Thank Merlin they weren’t.

* * *

It’s spring semester when Zari and Amaya find themselves alone in the staff office. It’s a Hogsmeade weekend, and bets are placed that at least half of everyone would have a hangover or a hangover-in-progress by the time it was over. 

In the mean time, it’s just her and Amaya. Amaya chooses not to drink, it’s not something she enjoys partaking in, and Zari wouldn’t drink either way.

The mood’s the slightest bit romantic. Maybe it was the air, or that it was Valentine’s Day weekend, but they’re talking about dating and Zari can’t help but notice how beautiful Amaya’s face is. How she was ageless and timeless in her beauty, how she paid full attention to the person she was talking to and it was, well.

Zari gets lost in thought. Amaya waits.

“I was thinking,” Zari starts, “maybe we could do something for Valentine’s. Everyone else is, even Constantine and Charlie.”

“They’d hardly be doing anything good,” Amaya laughs, shaking her head. “Poor Carter’s probably having the time of life.”

“At least he’s getting something,” Zari replies.

“Not necessarily,” Amaya gets closer, almost like she was about to seduce Zari. “Have you ever considered having a relationship with someone of the same gender?”

Zari looks at her. “More than once.”

Amaya tucks Zari’s hair behind her ear. Into her ear, she whispers one word: “Good.”

Amaya asks Zari, “The house elves have prepared a special dinner in my room—it’s for two.”

“Who’s the second person, then?” Zari doesn’t want to hope, to dream, but it feels so real already.

“It’s you, Zari.” If Zari didn’t know that Amaya wanted to finish with _it’s always been you_ , then that was understandable. But, Zari did understand this much.

“You’re serious?” Zari asks, still processing it.

“I’m certain,” Amaya confirms, holding Zari’s hand. “More than certain.”

* * *

 

Sunlight streams through the open window, and Zari wakes up to the sight of Amaya brushing her hair away of her face.

“Morning,” Amaya greets softly, “you’re beautiful.”

“We—” Zari starts, “I didn’t think we’d finally do it.”

That, as in hooking up.

That, as in possibly starting a relationship with someone they wanted.

That, as in it actually happening.

Zari hardly believes that it’s real. She wants to believe she made this up, but it’s impossible to miss. She’s in Amaya Jiwe’s bed, her clothes on the bedroom floor.

That, Zari could hardly make up.

Amaya smiles, fondly, just for her. “It’s the spirit of the holiday.” Quieter now. “Besides, I’d rather spend my Valentine’s Day with you.”

“It was a good surprise,” Zari tells her now girlfriend, she supposes, “but I can think of one better.”

“Oh, really?” Amaya asks with a twinkle in her eye. “What would that be?”

There’s a grin on Zari’s face. “I can think of a few breakfast places we can floo to, unless you wanted to spend the rest of the day here.”

Amaya gets out of bed, and starts putting her clothes on. She kisses Zari on the lips, and with a grin: “I’ll be ready in ten minutes.”

The rest, needless to say, is history. 

* * *

 

Her contract’s up for renewal, and when Rip Hunter and Nate Heywood ask her if she wants to stay on as a member of the faculty, the answer is _yes_.

There is no hesitation in her voice as she tells them that she enjoys teaching, that the eccentric co-workers she has are the most wonderful (and awful) people she has ever known, but more importantly, she’s found a second family. They’re morbid and they’re sarcastic and they pretend like they don’t care when it’s all they care about, and it’s so obvious that whatever it is they were, it worked.

Sure, they could make horrible decisions outside of the view of the students, Constantine and Carter’s love-hate relationship spoke for itself, but by large they were a found family, and that was something Zari _loved_.

So, when Amaya takes her out for dinner the next weekend to celebrate, she enjoys every minute of it. It’s worth it, so much more than anything she’s ever known before, and so Zari holds onto it.

**Author's Note:**

> On tumblr at johnsconstantine


End file.
